“That won’t be how I tell the story,” she says, wearing a soft smile.
“That’s fine. The truth always lives somewhere in the middle,” I say.
“Well, regardless, thank you for being a goodfriend.”
The word hangs between us.
I’ve never kissed a friend and felt so right. I’m tempted to ask her if the world stopped spinning for her, like it did for me, but I don’t. That kiss will forever be burned on my lips.
The electricity between us crackles stronger as I taste her ChapStick on my lips. Julie’s sweet and addictive.
As we arrive at her door, I shove my hands in my pockets so I’m not tempted to reach for her. “If you ever need me to rescue you again, just text me. I’ll even answer this time.”
Her laughter lights me up inside. “Careful, Banks. I might take you up on that.”
“I’m counting on it.” I grin, heart pounding harder as she turns to her door. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
We stare at each other for an eternity.
“Want to come in?” she asks.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say, and I’m relieved.
When I step inside, it’s how I imagined it would be. Warm and cozy with color everywhere. The accent walls in her living room and office space are painted deep jewel blue and purple. Several mismatched throw pillows that somehow work lie neatly on her couch. Big plants are in every corner of the room, reaching toward the natural light of the windows. It feels like home, a place where life happens.
“Wine?” she asks.
Before I can answer, she’s already pulling two glasses from her turquoise-painted cabinets.
“Sure.”
I watch her move around the kitchen, noticing more eccentric decorations, like the chili pepper string lights hanging above thewindow. A collection of coffee mugs with sarcastic quotes dangle on a rack.
“Your condo is great,” I say, settling onto her couch, twisting my body to watch her.
“It’s no New York penthouse, but it will do, I suppose.”
She pops open the cork and pours us two glasses. I take one as she sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her.
“You know, I actually grew up in a small town that’s not much different from Cozy Creek.”
“Oh? Really?” she asks, intrigued.
“Most assume I had a silver spoon in my mouth because of who my father was, but that wasn’t my life. After my stepdad passed away, it was just me, my mom, and my older sister, Miranda. My mother raised me to be humble.”
“Wow, I’m sorry.”
“He was the man I considered to be my dad. I took it hard, but also I’m grateful he was such a big part of my life. I think about him and smile now.”
Her face softens. “How did you and Zane become friends?”
“We took lessons from one of the best coaches in the country, who trained Olympians. Our friendship wasn’t formed because of who our fathers were. It was because of our interests. Before I got into hockey, I thought I’d professionally snowboard like Zane.”
Julie drinks her wine, watching me. “Wow. You were a normie turned billionaire baddie? How did you adjust?”
This makes me laugh. “Who said I have?”
“Oh. Fair.”
